Page 11 of Owen (Blue Team #1)

Envy wasn’t something I was prone to. But hearing Natasha talking to Gabe made me green with it.

All those words, all at once.

Other than her fucked-up story about sneakers I don’t think I’d heard her speak that much all at once. Hell, I don’t think she’d spoken that many words all in one day before. Though maybe she had and I was just jealous as fuck that she was talking to Gabe. I was greedy, I wanted all of her words.

My day got worse when Gabe and Kevin left to go down the mountain and Nat went back to silence. She uttered a few words to Myles about his pancakes being in the microwave but said not a word to me. Then after breakfast, she promptly cleaned the kitchen and disappeared upstairs.

It wasn’t until hours later when Gabe got back to the cabin, dropped a bag full of clothes on the table, and yelled up the stairs did she come back down.

That was the first I’d seen of her in hours.

But she certainly scuttled her ass when Gabe bellowed for her.

Not that I’d attempted to talk to her but it still pissed me off.

Then she’d proceeded to argue with Gabe about the jacket, boots, and fleece-lined Carhartts he’d bought her.

That irritation was two-fold. I didn’t want Gabe buying her anything.

I wanted to be the one to give all the firsts.

And I could safely guess she’d never owned a pair of Carhartts before.

However, bigger than the new clothes was the fact she was arguing.

Hands on her hips, face red, deep frown on her pretty face, she’d said more words. Words that I wanted to belong to me.

In the end, Nat had no choice but to give in when Gabe pulled a knife out of his pocket and cut all the tags off proclaiming they couldn’t be taken back.

Then he left the room. She gave it a few minutes just standing there in front of a pile of clothes before her gaze went around the room.

I waited for her to say something to me but she didn’t.

Now I was outside, in the freezing-ass cold splitting wood for no other reason than to blow off some energy. Later I’d go for a run and if that didn’t burn out the fire in my stomach I’d do a full workout.

Bottom line was something had to give. I was damn close to my breaking point. Being out of control was not a feeling I was accustomed to and now that I’d felt it in excess I really didn’t fucking like it.

I heard snow crunching and looked up from the log to find Nat bundled up walking my way.

Christ, I was going to kill Gabe. There wasn’t a damn thing that should’ve been sexy about a woman wearing coal-colored canvas work pants and a black puffy North Face down jacket but fuck me running the woman looked like a sexy mannequin for cold-weather gear.

Yeah, I was going with that thought because the only other way to describe what I was seeing as she slowly made her way to me was she looked like a woman I wanted to strip down so I could see what she was hiding under all those layers.

And those types of thoughts were hazardous.

“Hey,” she quietly greeted.

“Everything okay?”

For once Nat’s face didn’t close down and she didn’t blank her expression.

Instead, she stopped in front of me and didn’t hide her nervousness.

I didn’t know if this was because she’d decided to take Gabe’s advice, even though I’d told her the same thing but she hadn’t listened to me, or if she was so overwhelmed she could no longer push it aside.

For my peace of mind, I was hoping it was the latter.

“I…um…may I help?”

“Help?”

“I’ve never chopped wood before.” She tipped her head to the log. “I know I won’t be any good at it and I don’t want to mess it up, so if you don’t want to show me I understand.”

“Can’t screw up splitting a log, Nat.”

She didn’t smile, she rarely did, but her lips did twitch and I felt that tiny movement straight in my balls.

Fuck.

I glanced down at her glove-covered hands and pulled off my leather work gloves.

“Can’t swing an ax with those on,” I told her. “Put mine on.”

“Never mind then.”

What the hell?

“You gotta problem with wearing a pair of gloves that have been on my hands?”

“What? No. But I don’t think mine will fit on those big paws you have and I don’t want your hands getting cold.”

I wasn’t going to go there, where my mind wanted to go, wandering to all the places I’d like to touch with my big paws. So instead I focused on her use of the asinine word.

“Paws?”

“Well, that’s what you call abnormally large hands.”

There was nothing abnormal about my hands. But I liked that she’d considered them. Liked it in a way that made it hard to ignore how much I wanted her to experience all the ways I could pleasure her with my hands.

“Babe. ”

“What? They’re man’s hands. Rough and…well, just rough I guess.” Then to my absolute horror, she mistook what I was sure was a stunned expression and started to backpedal. “I don’t mean to offend you. I just mean…I don’t know what I mean.”

“You didn’t offend me. I get what you’re saying.”

“All my life I’ve been around men, no, not men—males. Who got their nails manicured.” Nat shrugged and I begged, albeit in my head, for her to continue.

She didn’t.

“Manicured?”

“Yeah. A trim, file, and buff. Part of the manicure is a soak and lotion to keep their hands soft.”

“That’s jacked.”

My off-handed comment made the corner of her mouth tip up and I begged again wanting to see her smile.

She didn’t smile but she continued. “Yeah, well, I’d guess soft men like soft hands. Real men have work-roughed hands. Rugged and strong. I’d never felt hands like that until you.”

Jesus, she was killing me. I didn’t need the reminder she’d already felt my hands.

Though the only time I’d touched her was after she’d had a nightmare, and even if it made me a son of a bitch, at those times I was very aware I was stroking her back or holding her hand as she calmed herself down.

Mind, body, and soul. Each time I’d held her the awareness was crisp and had me hardening in all the wrong places.

Seeing her now, looking like a wet dream, I didn’t need the reminder.

“Come here, I’ll show you how to split a log.”

My change of subject was abrupt and maybe even rude but I doubted Nat would find me sporting a hard-on polite, therefore, the change of topic was very much needed.

“Are you sure I’m not bothering you?”

The fact she asked that made me feel like a dick.

We’d been in Idaho for two days now and I’d avoided her the best I could.

This was not done because I was busy, it was done in an effort to fortify my resolve knowing she’d be climbing into the same bed as me.

The temptation of her so great I needed hours to talk myself out of rolling her close and pinning her to the bed.

And more hours still to remind myself of all the reasons kissing her would be a bad idea.

My cock didn’t agree with my head. And my heart was warring with my good sense.

How everything had become a tangled mess was beyond me. But for the life of me, I couldn’t find a way to untie the tether.

“Come here and put these on.” I held up the leather gloves and waited for her to pull her knitted ones off and shove them in her coat pocket. After she’d stowed hers she took mine and shoved her hands in the too-big gloves.

“Um…” She waved her hands and the leather tips flopped. “I think these are too big.”

It was then I was reminded of how small her hands were. Tiny hands I’d felt hold onto my forearms, felt the softness glide over my skin while I’d held her.

Jesus fuck.

This was a bad idea. All of it. The worst.

Yet I didn’t put an end to the madness, instead, I picked up the ax and handed it to her. Then I proceeded to step behind her, wrap my arms around her, and place my hands over hers. Once I had her in the position I wanted her, I lifted the ax over her shoulder and helped her cut through the log.

“Like that,” I told her and realized she’d gone stiff in my arms.

I started to slide away but froze when I heard her whimper.

Goddammit.

I was not some adolescent boy who could not control his body.

But with Natasha pressed against me I was finding it hard to will my cock to stay soft.

Who the fuck was I kidding? I was half-hard and getting stiffer by the second.

I blew out a breath, fighting for control when Nat shivered in my arms. Just that minuscule movement caused her ass to lightly brush against my crotch and I growled my disapproval.

The growl was a miscalculation on my part.

The moment the sound emitted from my throat everything about Natasha softened.

“Nat,” I warned.

“Just this,” she whispered and I swear to God her soft plea pierced my hardened heart. But more, those words shot straight to my cock and I lost the battle. There was nothing left to fight—I was hard as a rock and there was no way for me to hide it with her leaning against me.

“ This isn’t smart.”

“Then I want to be stupid. Just for a minute. I just want to know what it feels like.”

All sorts of dirty thoughts raced through my head, each of them driving the last delicious fantasy to the back, one image after another of Natasha laid out before me, naked, exposed, opened, and waiting for me.

Those didn’t concern me as much as the visions of me holding her, stroking her silky hair, gently kissing her neck, breathing in her scent.

Fucked.

I was so fucked.

Yet I didn’t deny her and move away. I stood still and allowed Natasha to feel whatever it was she wanted to feel.

The whole time praying it was the feel of my desire pressed against her ass and not something else.

All of it dangerous. But attraction was one thing.

Intimacy, now that would be perilous—deadly even.

That was something I could never give another woman.

“Thank you,” she murmured then asked louder, “May I try again? ”